Paris, December 1795
I wake up filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and the intoxicating evening which we spent yesterday have left my senses in chaosl. Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart! Are you angry? Do I see you looking sad? Are you worried?... My soul aches with sorrow, and there can be no rest for you lover[...] I draw from your lips, from your heart a love which consumes me with fire. [...]
You are leaving at noon; I shall see you in three hours.
Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.
Your loving husband,
N. Bonaparte
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